It stopped him cold, along with the realization that the dark stains on the cover could have been her brother’s blood. He looked up and into her eyes. They were as unreadable as her father’s.

“If you try to use this information,” she said, “you’ll be killed. I would hate to see that happen. It’s a fool’s bargain, Jess. My father paid a great deal to get this book, and it’s cost us more than it could ever be worth. I’m only giving you fair warning.”

His throat felt suddenly tight, and he forced a smile as he said, “I’ll be back with the Blake in an hour.”

She nodded. “I will be waiting.” Somewhere in the back of the house, a bird began to sing loudly and musically, and Anit turned her head toward it with a smile. “It’s our pet skylark,” she said. “My younger brother built a house for it. The song is so beautiful, isn’t it?”

Jess held the bloodstained book in one hand and said, “It is.”

If this ended badly, at least he could enjoy the bright, familiar song of a bird he’d grown up hearing back home.

EPHEMERA

Text of a message from the Artifex Magnus, head of the Artifex school of the Great Library, to an unnamed recipient

Greetings and fair wishes, brave soldier. You have already been made aware of your mission, and I know you have doubts of the morality of such an action. You need have no fear. In firing this shot, you will remove from the ranks of the Library one of our most difficult and dangerous traitors, one for whom there is no cure but death.

I do not give this order lightly, and I know you do not take it so. The Burners cry that a life is worth more than a book, but we know the truth: knowledge lives on. No single life can claim so much.

And so a man who threatens knowledge must be dealt with—by persuasion, by force, or, if all else fails, by death.

Blessings upon you from your god or gods, and from the hands of the Archivist Magister himself, who has approved this action.

HIS SEAL.

CHAPTER THREE

By the time he’d retrieved the Blake from his personal stash of rare books and delivered it to Anit in exchange for the cipher, it had been well into the dark hours of early morning. Then Jess spent hours poring over the contents of the book, writing out a translation page by careful page.

The results were startling, and he’d ached to keep going, but by the time his clock showed three in the morning, his eyes were too grainy to focus, his brain too numb to think. Jess finally admitted defeat and fell into bed, where he slept the sleep of the dead . . . until a pounding on his door resurrected him.